


There'll Be Days Like This

by sweetautumnwine



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast), The Adventure Zone: Amnesty (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, Reflection, idk what this is, it takes place before the events of amnesty, that's all I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 11:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16722468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetautumnwine/pseuds/sweetautumnwine
Summary: The lodge is a place of warmth and comfort, but it wasn't always like that. Mama reflects on the past. Barclay provides a reminder.





	There'll Be Days Like This

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Mama Said by The Shirelles.

Logs crackled in the hearth, casting an ambient orange glow onto the nearby armchair where Mama sat, staring out the window at the first flakes of falling snow. A book lay open and unread in her lap, one finger pressed between the pages to hold her place. In the lodge, all was quiet.

 

Mama sipped from her glass of whiskey, lifting her chin to swallow around the stiffness in her throat. Winter made even the simplest tasks difficult. From sore throats and dry skin to roof leaks and engine trouble, the season always seemed to target Mama, coaxing her into corners and challenging her every decision.

 

Worst of all, the lodge always felt emptier when the trees were bare and the air was cold. The folks from Sylvain were friendly enough, and they often populated the lounge, engaging in mild conversations, filling the room with warmth.

 

Late at night, when they had all retired, Mama would sit by the fire, surrounded by silence, confined to her memory. She knew she wasn’t alone, not anymore, but in the quiet moments, away from the danger and excitement, she remembered all too clearly how it felt.

 

The lodge once had cobwebs in the corners and dust along the blades of the ceiling fans. Lightbulbs had burnt out without being replaced, and rugs had faded in uneven patches, bleached by isolated pools of sunlight. Cleaning up the place had seemed like a monumental task. Mama had devoted weeks to scrubbing floors, beating dust out of curtains, and learning to reupholster furniture.

 

Her sweat had surely soaked into the floorboards. The days had been much quieter then, wind cutting through the forest, whistling through the cracks in the walls.

 

She tilted her head to inspect the concealed caulk around the fireplace. Even after all these years, her work had kept the place intact, preventing the structure from collapsing. Perhaps, she mused, downing the remainder of her drink, there was magic in the lodge itself, flowing from the spring and its residents; the cause of its longevity couldn’t be her, after all.

 

As she set the glass down on the floor beside her, Mama let her head fall back against the chair, eyes on the ceiling. The soft patting of slippered feet soon disturbed her, and she shifted enough to provide enough acknowledgement.

 

“You’re still out here, Mama?”

 

Barclay appeared in her vision, a displeased expression muddying his features. He was dressed for bed, clad in proper pajamas, and as he stood in the shadows, he shivered, crossing his arms.

 

“Get some rest,” he said. “Can’t have you getting sick again.”

 

Mama closed her eyes, brows knitting at the center of her forehead. With his quiet, mellow demeanor, Barclay was tragically easy to forget. Smiling, Mama remembered: Barclay filling a sudsy bucket with hose water, sneezing onto the cleaned glass, gagging as he reluctantly pried open the oven door.

 

Reclaiming Amnesty Lodge hadn’t been a solitary endeavor. It had been lonely at times and certainly quiet, but Barclay had provided some structure, a solid foundation for Mama to rely on.

 

She opened her eyes and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Won’t be getting sick any time soon,” she said, closing her book. “I know you’ve been eying my job.”

 

He scoffed, and even in the darkness, she could see him roll his eyes. “I don’t want your job, Mama.”

 

“Good. Keep it that way.”

 

Barclay drew closer, bending to retrieve Mama’s empty glass. “Do I have to escort you to bed, or can you manage it yourself?”

 

“I ain’t a child, Barclay.” Leaning forward, she braced her palms on her knees, exhaling strictly through her nose before rising. “I think I can handle walking down the damn hallway.”

 

Though he seemed keen on challenging her assertion, Barclay shrugged, depositing the glass in the kitchen sink before returning to the hearth. Mama stood still, holds folded over her stomach, watching the flames as they died.

 

She couldn’t hear them, but she knew: the patrons of the lodge slept soundly within the walls of their sanctuary, their home. Some snored, some dreamed, some wept until they woke themselves, longing for a faraway place. But no matter their worries and fears, they were safe. That was all Mama had wanted.

 

Barclay rested a hand on her shoulder, knowing the alcohol had softened her, just enough. “We’ll let it burn itself out,” he said. “No need to make it cold now.”

 

“What, you making breakfast?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, appearing almost sheepish. “Special day.”

 

She pinched the bridge of her nose, straining her memory. “Someone’s birthday?”

 

“Anniversary,” Barclay corrected. “Of the day we officially opened.”

 

Her lips parted, then pressed together. She’d lost track of the years and was certain Barclay had, too. The lodge had grown warm. Each hollow morning filled with the conversation and connection that Mama had longed for.

  
She nodded, tucking her book under her arm. As she moved past the chair toward the hallway, she paused by his side and smiled. “I guess that  _ is _ something worth celebrating. Better make it good, Barclay. I’m counting on you.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not totally happy with this, but I want to push myself to 1) write more, 2) write more TAZ stuff, and 3) write more for Amnesty, especially Mama bc I love her. Comments are appreciated! :3


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